Morning

   It's called morning when the sky begins to lighten. So it's not exactly morning. But I couldn't sleep so I got up.
   Or it's called morning if you're Al and you're getting up to go to school, even though it's not yet 5 a.m.
   Why do I feel like blogging when I have absolutely nothing to say? Why have I nothing to say? Is it because nothing ever happens and I never do anything? How do people stay on their phones and on Facebook so much, as if they have a wonderful group of friends to keep up with? Or do you just get on Facebook and say, Look at me, and people do if you're clever, informative, or entertaining.
   Life is so hum-drum. I think of myself as total failure. Or at least not very useful. I dabble in many things but I have nothing to show for it. Yesterday I failed again in another worse way. How tiresome it is to be me. Always spinning my wheels. People ask me, what do you do? and I can't really say.
   Yesterday I had a rare moment of being useful. Or maybe I should say, feeling useful. I made pizza. It was a fairly good pizza. Maybe I'll have another useful moment this year.
   Come to think of it, I wrote another tune, so that was useful. But I have had to withdraw some of my earlier ones because they weren't very good.
   We moved to a new apartment not far from our old one. It is much better in many ways, but it has some drawbacks. Like the terribly noisy traffic that starts at six a.m. and goes till midnight. I dream of insulating my bedroom with sponge-type wall-paper. Then I'd have to somehow fix the window, which is where most of the sound comes in. Or I could keep a candle burning to drive away sound. Oh, whoops, candles don't drive away sound.
   A giant cockroach crawled across the floor. He is a very useful creature. He gave me the opportunity not to smash him, and I took it.